


Absolution

by bistourylove



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drug Use, F/M, Shameless Smut, Smut, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-21
Updated: 2014-03-21
Packaged: 2018-01-16 11:56:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1346575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bistourylove/pseuds/bistourylove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moriarty can give her the taste she needs and so much more</p>
            </blockquote>





	Absolution

“So beautiful like this, you are, and all mine none the less.” his voice lilted and rode the air like song, it would have been a kind turn of phrase coming from anyone else’s lips. But, from his, it was striking, a sentence which surely solidified her impending doom. What the phrase really implied is that she would not be beautiful for much longer, not in the thrall of such a vicious man, not the least since he had taken his time to capture his prize.   
The Irishman slipped a bony hand around the nape of her neck and pulled her down, forcing her face to the level of his collarbone. He held her as though he was there to lavish her with affection, as though they were lovers. Their height difference was barely noticeable at this angle.   
“And I am so going to enjoy this,” his smile verging on the edge of horrific, bearing his white teeth in happy mania “you won’t, not at first, but I’ll make you beg for it by the time we’re done.”  
The echo in the room was more than disquieting, it reminds her of rehab, the quietness of institutionalisation. She wonders silently to herself what choices she had made that got her here, was it the relapse, the desire to constantly be in the midst of something dangerous - declaring it always as fun and that no harm would come to her, was it this need to make the biggest mistakes she was capable of just to prove that she could right them eventually? All of them, most likely. But this had been a mistake she probably would not have time to correct, no way out, no where to go. Alone with a man of his caliber, not another living soul knowing or caring that she had so vulnerably set herself up for this disaster. All she wanted now is what she came for. Not needing anything but the rush that her addiction offered.   
“C’mere flower, let Daddy taste you.” He lifted her head by the chin and angled her face so that his lips were resting lightly on hers.   
She gives into the kiss, whether out of the sensation of failure to control the situation or out of the desire for his surprisingly soft lips it’s hard to tell. He knows how to make this work, how to lull her into a false sense of security before going after what he really wants. She knows that he knows, but she isn’t sure if her knowledge will make it any easier once it starts.  
“Now deary, I know what you need, you just have to ask for it.” He is looking up at her through his eyelashes, feigning coy and innocent, playing at some sense of humanity and not quite making it to an easy facial expression.   
“A taste” her response is nearly a whisper  
“Not much of a question now was it love?”   
“Can I have a taste, please?” she isn’t sure why, but she was compelled to ask him politely, if she had to ask she thought it best to make it proper.   
“It’s may, may I have a taste, and yes, yes you can” as he answered he strolled towards the sidebar in the corner of the room. “Please do make yourself at home.” he open handedly gestured to the chaise at his left.   
She lowered herself onto the lounger and did her best to simply relax while he made her what she wanted most. It wasn’t just that he had power over her, it was so much more. He had everything she ever really wanted, and though she could fight it all she knew in the end, he would always be her world. No matter how many times she escaped his grasp, got clean, she would always, always want his dirty. He felt like home, if home were akin to a mix between a halfway house and a private island. He was riches and elegance, the embarrassing type where even people in the affluent crowd had to fake their wealth in his presence. He was the criminal underbelly of England, perhaps of the world. Rumors spread that he could have any man killed from here to Sao Paulo and that sometimes he does it just for fun. All in all, he is the best example of a man she has even known. An enigma- men want to be him and hell, women want to be him too.   
“It’s been a while pet, want Daddy to make it good for you? Make you all better?”  
She has no reply, whatever it is that is crossing her mind has already crossed his and so she doesn’t attempt to retort a witty way.   
“Oh Jim fix it for me” he mewls sardonically as he surveys the wet bar before him.   
He makes himself a highball, takes the edge off and gives him the air of pretension that he loves best. As he goes to make the solution she awaits for he starts to croon, it’s old and romantic  
“On Raglan Road on an autumn day  
I saw her first and knew  
That her dark hair would weave a snare  
That I might one day rue”   
He sways a bit as he sings, it would be the sweetest sight in the world, had he not been creating a cocaine solution, 7%, sweet, maybe in fact- she thinks to herself, maybe his action makes it more endearing. What a beautiful world, where lovers do nothing more than destroy each other to prove themselves loving. Finally, with a drink in one hand and needles and other paraphernalia in the other he makes his way to her.   
She knows how this part goes, it’s what will follow that is always a surprise. Her forearm extends from her body and she makes a half-hearted sigh and a roll of her eyes as he kneels beside her. He takes her slender wrist into the clasp of his hand, the pale of her skin giving way to the tender veins just below the heel of her palm. His other hand traces lines up her arm, following those vessels which make her look like royalty until they are punctured. Mentally he recites the arteries and accompanying veins- the brachial feeds into the radial and ulnar, he notes the curve between her bicep and the muscles of supination. At any given time he is analysing at least ten things about her, anatomy may seem superficial but he understands her down to a molecular level. And for that she is gorgeous. His lips come to rest in the crux of her elbow, soft, light, loving. His grin returns upon her skin, more wicked than it’s prior visitations.   
“Ready, love?” he asks, but doesn’t wait for a response as he ligates her upper arm with rubber tubing, it’s almost medical, he is always methodical in this way. He waits a few moments, she opens and closes her hand the way she would for a blood draw, again, almost medical. The vein distends, pulsing, waiting. He taps at it, putting his tongue against his front teeth. He taps at the syringe, watching the air settle out of it as he pressed the plunger ever so slightly.   
She closes her eyes and inhales, the anticipation is tight, taking away all her air. The needle meets it’s mark, he never misses. All of a sudden the wave of it is glorious, it makes her feel like she has gold rushing through her, she is born again in it’s destructive path. Her mouth falls apart slightly as she exhales shakily. He sits back on his heels and watches the euphoria spread through her. He imagines the heady feeling of it, knowing all too well its effects, but refusing it for himself in this instance. This is about power as much as it is about pleasure and he needs to stay in control for as long as possible.   
“Thanks Daddy” she sighs slightly, satisfied, hollow and blank.  
“Of course hinny.”   
He moves to fit himself against the longer lines of her torso. He is gentle here, keeping the space between their hips a small gap, a teasing tension radiates from his to hers and she rolls up a little in an effort to meet him.   
“Not yet, lovely, gotta wait for it, I told you I’d make you beg.” he chuckles under his breath  
His hands running the slope from her ribs to her buttocks and stops at the crease of her thigh, bringing her leg up to wrap around him, now his fingers are more eager. He moves roughly, moves with intention tugging her towards him. His mouth captures hers, holding it’s purchase viciously between his teeth. Although his upper dentition is straight, the jag of his medial incisor on the lower ridge makes for harsh worrying. She keens at his bite, but makes no move to stop him, deepens the kiss relishing in the sensation of the high and his now greedy tongue.   
He pulls back from her breaking their contact, and sticks out his tongue- flat along his lower lip, his eyebrows lift to indicate her action should pantomime his own. She follows suit. Then his tongue is there, leaving hers, his teeth nip at it, breaking taste buds in it’s wake. Her blood makes a slow rivulet down her chin.   
She whines when she has a moment, but his expression is one of a man that upholds no brucking, she knows that is too late now. Now she is his, thats just how this works, she has resigned herself to the fact and does her best to convince herself that he feels anything for her at all, impossible at it would be.   
“Oh pet, no no no no” His teeth move lower, now making in to her neck just as ravenously as he had her tongue. Red and purple blooms rise from her skin, she can do nothing but sigh under the pressure of the affectation being applied to her frame. It hurts much more around the collar bones, which protrude from the rest of her frame sharply. At this she cries out, it is high pitched, even for the range of her voice his laugh has returned and is lower than it has been.   
“Cosúil nach bhfuil go bhfuil tú?”   
“You know I don’t speak your nonsense.” She relishes and damns herself for the boldness the high affords her.   
“Don’t need a verbal reply anyway.” He just thinks its funny how she speaks to him when she is altered, she knows better, knows he has killed for less and it is amusing to hear someone challenge him. His fingers make there way from the back of her thigh to rub against the elastic and lace of her knickers, then press forward. His action is met with a warm soaking of the fabric, she is positively dripping. A glottal moan comes of her as though it were dragged out.   
“That’s what I thought.” his fingers wend their way around the material to brush up against hot slick skin, soft and pulsing with heartbeat “how boring, just another horny little coke bitch.” His tone is half melodic and half flat- it is unnerving the way he can be both opposites so easily at once.  
She squirms against him, against his insult, but only momentarily, only until his fingers slip into her - just two and just past the first knuckle. They stroke upwards, teasing her, making her realise how much she wants more.   
“Nah, don’t go pliant just yet love, I’ve got so much more in store for you.” His fingers sink deeper, up to where they meet his hand and it’s almost painful. His hands fit the rest of him, manicured and slender but the utter lack of consideration makes it a harsh experience. She is acutely aware of every infinitesimal move of his digits. His motions come roughly, quickly, the easiest way to get a rise out of her without really trying. The gap between their bodies has closed, but she can’t remember when, all she knows now is his weight on top of her with his hand wedged between their bodies, rucking.   
He stops his machinations abruptly. and she is suddenly at a loss for sensation. The drug in her system does nothing to soothe the loss, instead the ache rings out within her body more heartily than it would have otherwise. He removes himself from the chaise and straightens his jacket front with practiced precision, his trousers tented in obvious arousal, but he still looked completely composed. Bastard, always had the upperhand, could be standing there covered in jam from head to toe and look like the person in the room you were meant to take orders from.  
Clearing his throat he tilted his head, insinuating her to the floor. Not so bad a place, this rug most assuredly cost more than the lot of her possessions and its pile was long enough to garner some cushion. She sat on it like a child at story time, legs crossed awkwardly, arms to her sides, dangling. It was a defiant posture, surely she knew that. But she felt invincible, felt like there was nothing he could do to bring her down. It was this feeling that made it all worth it, any punishment he would dole out to her was worth it, any repercussion of her actions later, to feel so alive for a seeming eternity was worth all of it.   
He crossed to her, his abandoned highball back in hand. Slowly, he pressed the toe of his well cobbled Greson into her shoulder, tippin her carefully off balance until she was more or less lying on her back. He moved the sole to her neck, and held his weight just above her throat. It was a tease, her breath hitched in anticipation and more or less in fear. Finally he pressed down, not all of his weight, just a bit of it, just enough to make her strain for ever inhalation. All the while sipping eloquently from his cocktail - the way a man might do while bored during conversation. He reveled in the wheezing of her inspiration; and she reveled in the slow and sure way that he took her breath away. Ever pressing, his weight became more and more of a challenge to resist. Her face reddened, and the veins of her forehead began to distend. She made no effort to fight him though, she smiled up at him in a coy way, again so childish an, act of disobedience.   
“Mo stóirín, gach mianach. Mar sin, álainn.” his native tongue was so sweet.   
He relented his stepping and her lungs filled with air, air that she had not known how truly desperately she needed. The aura of the injection still kept her floating, far above herself there on the textile.   
He leant down so that his breath was puffing hotly on her cheek and she shuddered at the intimacy. She is acutely aware of the now empty crystal glass to the left of her head.   
“Now, Daddy is feeling in a particularly good mood, so I’m going to give you an option. You can ask for it nicely and I will make you feel like a deity, or you can keep struggling with me and I’ll make you take it like the bitch you are.” the whisper would not have been audible to anyone else had there been another soul in the room.   
She sighed, weighing her prospects, she had never been given the choice, and that was what it was now, a choice. She could deal with the way he tossed her around, the way he took from her what he wanted, never bothered to reciprocate pleasure. That is how she knew him, knew him to be the man who gave her what she needed and took what he needed in return. But this, this possibility of light touches, of him working to please her, scared her. Would she be able to deal with the closeness of him without the violence of him? Could she seperate the action from the reality? She desperately needed to know.  
“Please.” she said breathily.   
“Please what lovey?”  
“Please, just this once, just one time, pretend you love me.” a crack in her voice gave her sentiment away. Sentiment -- the attribute which most widely separated the two.   
Her words garnered no reply, nor demanded them. He wrapped his arms around her, cradling her in the crux of them and lifted her the way a bridegroom would carry his wife through the doorway on a honeymoon. She felt paper light in his arms, as though she didn’t fully exist. He would not let on how this made his heart ache, how her hollow frame made him long to care for her, to ensure her well-being. He walked with her in his arms, holding her close to his chest, her face resting on his collar bone, toward the bedroom down the hall. Once there he placed her on the bed so gently it seemed he was worried to break her.   
He stood back, admiring her as he unbuttoned his suit jacket and made slow work of his shirt, abandoned his tie in turn and let all of those extravagant garments fall diaphanously. She arched off the mattress, straining to reach the zipper on her back.  
“No darling, wait.” his gaze didn’t leave her while he shirked off his trousers, shoes and socks in one go. In plain black pants, he rejoined her on the bed.   
“Let me.” he got close to her face, within in reach of her lips but far enough off that it would be an effort. His deep breath gave him an intoxicatingly rushing sensation of her smell, no store bought fragrance, a mixture of soaps and powders- the smell of petrichor somewhere buried in the heavier notes. One hand propped him up while the other ghosted over her before guiding her to turn on her side. Without looking he deftly gripped and pulled, the teeth falling apart unseen. She scrunched her shoulders together allowing for the fabric to fall in front of her. Gently he worked it down her body.   
For a few moments, they lay there side by side, in undergarments and quiet. She could not remember a single time they had both been completely nude, or in a bed,not like this, this was all new. She liked new.   
He laced his fingers with hers at their collar bones, and for the first time she realised that they were not much larger than her own. Because of his personality he had always seemed larger, and intimidating. But being this close to him took some of the edge off of his usually prickly demeanor.   
His lips met hers, slowly, not pressing forward, chaste in their work, just the soft graze of lips against one another. She, for one, did not want to rush this. It had been an age since anyone was so slow with her. The usual act of congress meant letting her brain block out the shame and the unpleasant sort of stickiness that came with physical interaction- it was a necessity for the kind of life she lived, a way to get what she wanted without having the monetary means otherwise required. Finally after several moments, his tongue peeked out from between his lips and gently urged hers to join it. The slide of warm saliva was tinged by the undertone of alcohol on his breath. His breathing remained level but came harder, seemingly more eager despite his countenance.  
She murmured in the space between their mouths and closed the few inches between their bodies.   
His hands cradled her back and ran up the line of her spine to remove the brassiere that separated their chests from full contact. That gone there was almost nothing separating them, almost. Underwear were shed in quick succession and then it was nothing but hot and ready flesh nudging and insistent. The drug pulsing through her system worked to provide a colour and light show on her eyelids when she let her eyes drift shut. Swirls of incandescent radiance seemed almost as palpable as his hands which were now gently kneading the flesh of her bosom.  
He rutted against her, not insisting yet on penetration, but despite himself hungry for friction. The cant of his hips inspired movement of her own and soon they had found a steady rhythm that was quickly becoming slick with precome and a light sheen of sweat.   
The noises coming from his throat were hereforto unheard by her. Gentle, needy moans, mewls that spoke of desperation and adoration within a breath. She broke her mouth from his to affix it to his neck and bite,teasingly, into the flesh there. Her action elicited something akin to a growl from him above her.   
In a swift action he had shifted their bodies so that she was astride his hips. He didn’t linger for long, knowing that if he left her there he would soon give into his baser need to please himself. He held fast to her hips and shimmied his way down the mattress, once his shoulders were at her kneecaps he awkwardly fed his arms through the gap between her thighs and rearranged them on the other side of her body, cupping the supple flesh of her arse in his hot hands. She gazed down at him, smiling from between her legs, eyebrows raised so they practically disappeared into his hairline, she had never seen him from this angle. Never yet received this pleasure from him, and why would she have when previously this was an act of reparation, not of passion. He breathed in deeply, taking in her scent, one of sex and store brand soap, he sighed as the notes drifted into his mind and straight down to his cock. Still in control of the situation he insinuated her hips forward and down so that now she was pressed against his smile, soft and wet and waiting. This was an activity he had plenty of experience with but it had been a woefully long time since he last practiced, not that it would hinder his performance. It started out as a kiss, the way he would begin a kiss upon her other mouth, just lips and light suction. Soon his tongue joined the exercise and she let a moan escape from her mouth. Oh god, the wetness of his tongue sliding perfectly between her folds was almost too much to handle. As he laps deeper and deeper within her, he begins to set a pace for her hips to grind at. She happily takes the initiative to ride his face of her own volition, enjoying the friction of his nose against her clit and the slight roughness of the stubble on his chin as is met with her arse and inner thighs. Suddenly his tongue is fully enveloped in her heat, pressed so far within her that his teeth are scraping lightly against her, and with it she begins to praise a god she doesn’t believe in. His jaw works tirelessly rolling up and back quickly, as much as this is for her it is for him, he hums satisfactorily sending vibrations throughout her entire body. Within minutes she is wrecked, a shuddering mass above him, gripping into his no longer pristine hair to hold on for dear life and chase down her release. He snakes one hand from behind her to ride the crease between her bottom and the tops of her thighs, then deftly slides just the tip of his index finger in alongside his tongue. He wriggles his digit, teasing her entrance and it’s just enough to push her over the edge. A feeble attempt to form words is released instead in a chorus of panting syllables. He continues his motions, more lightly now, not willing to just stop because she has come.   
“So good,” he says when she, trembling, raises her body off of his face. “I could do that all day.”  
“You’d not hear a rebuke from me.” She says and laughs. For the first time since she has known him she lets down her guard and giggles. He smiles at it’s musicality, still positioned among her thighs, and then joins her in happy abandon.  
She realises what has transpired, that she is laughing at his frankly amazing skill and is embarrassed, it shows on her face like the tide coming in. Ever observant he chides her with a tut of his tongue against his upper teeth. Still not out of her awkward revelation she buries her face in her hands but it does nothing to quell her laughter.   
“Endorphins, sorry, sorry” she offers through her fingers, shifting back through the line of her legs to rest on his chest.   
“That’s what a good one’ll do to ya eh?” his voice is still comical, completely bereft of it’s previous harshness.   
As she leans back to brace herself with her hands on his body, she is then keenly aware of his neglected arousal. His prick strains from his groin and is so eager it no longer rests along the plane of his stomach, though a sticky strand of precome conects his glans to the downy hair below. Her left hand lifts from atop his thigh to encircle his thickness. He growls at the contact and lifts his hips from the mattress greedy for friction.  
“What do you want?” She inquires coyly, a smile playing across her lips  
“A runsearc, this is about you ‘member?”  
“So tell me, tell me how to touch you.” her voice is confident and she barely recognises it as it address him  
“Lightly, don’t grip too tight, quick and” she begins to follow his instruction, her ministration cuts off whatever else he had in mind to tell her. “oh fuck, that’s good” he manages closing his eyes.  
After a few moments she halts, his eyes open and then narrow judgmentally  
“Wha?” he sounds genuinely like a child who has just had a toy taken away from him  
“Patience” she relishes in the control of the situation  
She slides down the length of his body and then forces his hips up, pushing him towards the head of the bed again, maintaining her position.   
“Worth it” he breathes out  
Her tongue runs up the length of his shaft and teases the slit at his head, taking away with it’s tip a bead of salty wetness. Unlike other encounters he does not rush forward with his hips, does not thread his fingers through her hair to force himself down her throat. He waits, painfully for her to make contact, and when her lips take in the first few inches of him the sensation is electric. He can’t help but roll his hips up to delve slightly further into her mouth, into the wet waiting heat. The length of him not contained between her lips is caresses by her fingers, her palm along the the base of his erection, cupping softly in the downy curls at his groin. She twirls her tongue around his head, dipping lightly under his foreskin which is drawn back almost smoothed out completely under the strain of the blood which has pooled in his flesh.   
“Bloody hell” he breathes out shakily  
Her lips curl slightly into a smile, despite being still at work around his head. Her machinations increase in speed, she is less concerned about pleasing him, knowing that anything she does will feel good for him, instead she is enjoying his taste for once, enjoying the texture of his flesh on her tongue, even enjoying now the insistent nudge of his hardness at the back of her throat.   
He is trying as best as he can to not force it, and she understands. With her free hand she grabs at his left wrist, placing his hand gently on the back of her head. His fingers take the hint and intertwine with her hair, his grip is taut along her scalp. Given the right of way he sets the pace, bobbing her up and down his prick and reveling in the compliance he receives in return. It has yet to be this pleasurable with her, she has given in before, but now she is enjoying herself.   
“Oh jesus, oh fuck” he is panting brokenly now. She hollows her cheeks and sucks a bit harder at his coming undone.   
“I need ugh” his ability to verablise his desire is slowly deteriorating   
She pulls her mouth from him with a quiet and soft popping noise  
“You need what?” she asks him through heavy lids  
“I need you, need to be inside of you, close to you.” the truthfulness in his words bleeds through and he is just as shocked as she is. The moment hangs open like a gaping moue, it is shocking. Through the haze of the wavering drugs, she understands why the choice was given to her. An unspoken conversation passed between them, and even if this will never come to fruition it exists however momentarily now.   
She makes her way slowly up her body, his hands wrapping around the gentle curve of her waist and running along her back to protruding shoulder blades, as he gazes down upon her he thinks to himself that the lines on her back resemble the beginnings of wings, or perhaps the absence of such appendages. She is boneless atop him, their sharp hips colliding, her slightly longer frame over hangs his, her toes tickling at the bottoms of his feet. For a few seconds they simply lock gazes, the brown of his eyes is unfathomably deep and he can see them reflected in her own pale irises.   
He insinuates himself from under her so that her back is now against his chest, needy rutting commences as he runs his hands down the line of her body from her ribs and down her hip. He then lifts her leg fractionally and pulls enough so that she bends her knee. She rocks so that his prick is nestled between the warm flesh of her thighs. Canting his hips a bit higher, he rubs against the slickness between her lips. A groan is emitted from them in concert, out of character hers is lower than his. Pressing forward he sinks into her and even with the slow slide he does not stop until he is fully seated within her.   
“Oh christ that is beautiful” he half whispers to himself  
At first they are awkward together, not sure how slowly or quickly to move together. She moves against his motion and they don’t quite fit together at such an intimate pace. Eventually though a steady rhythm is reached. For the most part he stays close to her, mostly inside of her, but every third or fourth thrust is accompanied by him pulling out almost completely before sinking in again.   
An incongruous chorus of breathy moans and glottal sounds are shared among them, there is no bruising grips, no forceful pressing, no degrading names spilling from his mouth; instead he sings her accolades in mewls he cannot control.   
The slow friction between them is delightful but not enough to take her over the edge, she forces his hips back and follows the roll so that he is on his back and she lies on top of him still back to his chest.   
“What are you” he stops abruptly when she repositions herself to straddle his hips and places her hands on top of his thighs just above his kneecaps.   
“Oh yes, yes,” he mutters throwing his head from one side to the other, the rustling of his hair against the bed linens is a whisper.   
“Yeah? You want this?” she wriggles her hips in a circle  
“Fuck yes”  
She is finished with softness, finished with tender caresses. Bucking as roughly as she can, he is having the air knocked out of him with ever meeting of their hips. His fingers grip her hips, no digging in as harshly as he normally would but now a subtext of desperate need is with them.  
“C’mon fuck me, harder Jim” she manages to cry out  
His hips thrust to meet her own, taking control of her atop in with shallow quick bursts that make his muscles sing out from exertion. His heels dig into the bed for leverage and he bends his knees to better control his movements as erratic as they may be. The room is full of nothing but their ragged breathing and the sound of sweat slicked flesh slapping bruskly.  
“Yes hnng yes” she throws her head back in abandon, the longest tendrils of her mahogany hair sweeping over her arse now.  
“Oh mo dhia”  
A few harsh and unforgiving upwards motions are all it takes and she is coming. It’s so sudden her eyes bolt open as if in surprise.The sensation that had been building in her stomach is now rushing through her limbs, flushing blood into her skin and overheating her senses. Her muscles tighten and quiver around him and it is enough to follow her through with a growl.   
“Feck” he curses loudly, his Irish lilt seems almost caustic, he holds her in place grinding as far into her as possible and comes. Each pulse of precious release is a tidal wave in and of itself, better than every orgasm he has had before, all combined in the sensation of her quavering flesh.   
They do not stop rocking right away, she still is chasing down some sense of aftershock, muscles twitching at random places of her body. She closes her eyes and it met with an aquamarine haze that vascilates between a more blue or more green tone and never seems to settle on one hue for long. Her hips slow and then stop.  
“Oh James, you make me see colours.” the sentence is a sigh  
He smirks, not knowing the significance of her statement. Not knowing that she’s only ever had one other lover that accomplished such a feat, with or without the aide of chemical inducement.   
She lifts herself with some effort, leaving a trail of his semen across his now softening cock and pubic hair and then wordlessly walks across to the bathroom with her thighs clenched tightly.   
He lays, still breathing heavily, spread across the bed, limbs as far apart as possible to allow excess heat to escape his body. His eyes fall shut and the rush of oxytocin overcomes him, he drifts lightly into sleep.   
He is roused by the sound of the door being opened, turns his head to see her having gathered her possession and fully dressed attempting to leave the room furtively.   
“Stay.” he says extending a hand weakly from the bed. It isn’t a command, it’s a request that leave him bare and vulnerable to rejection.   
“Why?” she asks  
“You know why, just stay.”  
She lets her bag drop to the floor and begins undressing herself as she approaches the bed. She kneels into the side of the mattress and falls in next to him. He wraps his thin arms about her, burying one between them that will no doubt go numb later in the night.  
“I’ll stop pretending if you will. Now sleep.” he murmurs into her neck, nose burrowed into her hair.


End file.
